


Rose Lalonde: Space Attorney

by magicites



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, IN SPACE!, LAWYERS!, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicites/pseuds/magicites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde, a defense attorney recently transferred to a mixed Alternia-Earth court system, is assigned to the case of People V. Megido. It should be a simple murder case, but what makes it difficult is the fact that the prosecution attorney happens to be none other than Terezi Pyrope, the best attorney in the district.</p><p>Thus begins a game of wits, testimonies, and horrendous clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose Lalonde: Space Attorney

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shaggy2hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggy2hope/gifts).



> This is not actually based off of Phoenix Wright at all. I have never played the game, sadly, but I think I would like it?
> 
> However I like lawyers, and as it turns out, my time on the mock trial team ended up being useful for something after all.

Two voices sound from inside of a lonely corridor.

“So, have you heard about today’s trial?”

“The one about the murder of the highblood done by the rustblood?”

A laugh.

“There’s nothing special about that.”

“But did you hear about the attorneys?”

“Don’t you mean legislacerators?”

Another laugh. “Not when one of them is a human, I don’t.”

A gasp. “A human!? Working this close to the border of the Alternian Empire?”

“Her name’s Rose Lalonde. From what I’ve heard, she’s a complete newbie.”

“And who is she going against?”

“Terezi Pyrope.”

The voices grow silent, perhaps due to some sense of admiration.

“That human won’t get out of this trial with her reputation intact. She should just give up now.”

Or perhaps, due to some misplaced pity.

“That’s what you get with humans! They’re stupidly stubborn.”

The sound of footsteps begin to echo off the walls, and the voices grow quieter.

You enter the corridor where they stood just moments before.

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you intend to prove those simpletons wrong.

\---

The trial is a simple one. Maroon-blooded Aradia Megido is charged with the murder of cerulean-blooded Vriska Serket. You aren’t all that familiar with the strange blend of Alternian and Earth laws present in this part of the galaxy, but you do know that here, murder between trolls is legal so long as the murderer is from a higher caste than the one they killed.

You find that immoral, but then again, you’re not a troll. You have no say in the matter.

Right now, you sit with your client in the small office you were given when you transferred to this district. It’s cramped and uncomfortable, leaving you to scatter papers and important documents anywhere you could find space (including the floor), but it works.

“Rose?” Aradia asks, blinking at you.

It would be a shame to see a young troll like her hung so early on in her life. It would also be a shame if she were to be killed, because that means that you wouldn’t get paid.

“Yes?”

“I’m guilty.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Well, this certainly makes your job that much harder.

“But Rose, it’s ok!” Aradia says quickly, trying to reassure you.

You drop your head into your hands, and glance at your client out of the corner of your eyes. “Miss Megido, there is no possible way for us to win this case if you’re actually guilty. If you weren’t, we could have passed Serket’s death off as another highblood settling a grudge and then framing you.” How are you expected to defend a client who committed murder, and still keep your fragile sense of human morality intact?

These trolls will be the end of you.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter if I’m guilty or not,” Aradia says. She’s so assured. You are kind of jealous.

“At least on Earth, the whole point of a trial is to determine if the defendant is guilty or not.”

“That may be true! But on Alternia, and especially in a mixed Alternia-Earth court like this, the defendant’s guilt is irrelevant to the case! All that matters is which attorney puts on the more convincing case.”

You are completely and utterly baffled. “But I’m not seeing a difference between those two concepts.”

“There is!” She says happily. “Think of it as like a performance. Whoever puts on the better performance wins the case. It’s simple.”

“Then I suppose this means we still have a chance?” You ask, a glimmer of hope rising from within your chest. She nods, and the two of you exchange smiles.

“Our biggest obstacle is Terezi Pyrope herself,” Aradia says thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin. “She’s the best prosecution attorney in the entire district.”

You sigh. “You are absolutely excellent at dashing my hopes whenever they happen to be raised higher than a fraction of an inch.”

She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry! But she’s going to be extremely ruthless during our case. Vriska was very special to her.”

Special to her? You…you can work with that.

If you play your cards right, you may just win. If you don’t…

Well, so much for entertaining a career as a lawyer.

If all else fails, you can always go back to publishing horrid harlequin romance novels.

\---

The courtblock the trial takes place in is not as big as the ones you remember seeing on Earth. It’s also much more bare, with only the lightest bits of decoration: a few water bottles on the council’s table, and a large symbol mounted on the wall behind the judge’s seat.

Speaking of the judge, he has yet to arrive. You only know that, within this room, he goes by ‘His Honorable Tyranny,’ and calling him by any other name will result in an instant loss of the case.

This trial will be conducted without a jury. The troll’s reasoning behind that is since they have conceded on the allowance of a defense attorney, they do not need to concede on having a jury as well. The defendant already has enough going in their favor.

The only witness here is Aradia, who followed you inside.

And actually, the prosecution attorney has also yet to arrive. That changes just a few minutes later when the door swings open, and a young troll woman walks inside, briefcase in one hand, and using the cane in her other not as support, but as a weapon.

She’s wearing this disgusting teal bodysuit. What looks like cheap red pleather functions as both a cropped top and a skirt that’s really nothing more than a floor-length loincloth. How is someone who dresses like that ever taken seriously?

You decide not to let your disgust show in your voice. “Miss Pyrope, I presume.”

She whips her head towards you and stares through bright red, plastic glasses. You can see red eyes – entirely red; iris, sclera, and all – framed by black eyelashes over the top. You meet her gaze calmly, and she breaks into high-pitched, giddy laughter.

“That’s Terezi Pyrope to you, human!” She says gleefully, using the tip of her white cane to drag out her chair and spin it around. She plops down into it, twirls a few times, and finally pulls herself up to the desk.

“I have a name, you know. It’s Rose Lalonde,” you say, barely resisting the temptation to glare at her.

“Lalonde, that name is useless here! In this courtblock, you will only be known as human! You have to earn the right to a proper name.”

“Then I will earn that privilege.” Quite easily, you add mentally.

She sets her briefcase on the table, slamming down directly over the sign that clearly states “No briefcases on the table.” You refuse to watch her sort through her disgustingly unorganized items. You turn to Aradia, and use your mastery of facial expressions to convey just how unimpressed you are.

“I can smell your irritation, you know,” Pyrope says jovially, slamming her briefcase shut. “I may be blind, but I am not stupid!”

“No wonder you dress like that,” you mutter quietly.

Pyrope grabs her cane, and whips it faster than what you believe to be humanly possible, striking it across your knuckles as if you were a delinquent child in Catholic school.

It stings your skin only a little; it stings your pride more.

You’ll have to get revenge somehow. You’re certain that the opportunity will present itself to you soon.

“So, this is the murderer?” Terezi says, pointing to Aradia. You detect a hint of animosity in her voice, one not present just moments ago.

“The correct term is defendant,” you tell her, glancing to your client. She’s nervous, but not looking guilty. Good.

“Really? Even on Earth you call those who have killed others murderers. Unless you lived underneath a rock before rocketing off into space.” Terezi says. She’s getting emotional, you can tell. “Didn’t you kill Vriska, Megido?” She asks, brandishing her cane right across the desk.

When it’s right in front of your face, you can see a small gap in the plastic. Within is a small glint, like light reflecting off of metal.

Weapons aren’t allowed in the courtroom, but you can reveal that fact later.

“Save the questioning for cross examination, Pyrope.” If she’s not going to dignify you with a proper name, you won’t dignify her with a proper name, either. All’s fair in love and war.

She looks down at you as if you’re nothing more than a crude pile of mud she happened to step in, and sits down.

Victory achieved.

The door flies open, and while Aradia flinches, both you and Pyrope share an icy, calm mask. A hulking monster of a troll lumbers in, and immediately heads to the back room. Behind him is a goliath; smaller and slightly less dangerous, but still of a daunting physical stature.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says curtly. “I will be serving as the courtroom bailiff.”

In this court, the bailiff doesn’t exist to protect the judge from wily witnesses. His job is to protect you from the judge.

They call him ‘tyranny’ for a reason. You smirk at the thought.

Pyrope – despite being blind – seems to notice your smirk, and frowns. Your smirk grows wider, just to taunt her. She bares her teeth.

You lift your hand to your mouth, and gently bite the manicured nail on your middle finger, curling your other fingers inward.

Her face twitches, and her hand grasps her cane so tightly her knuckles turn white. A light dust of teal settles over her cheeks.

“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently.

“Just waiting for the trial to start,” she answers back, just as sweetly. Her voice is like poison dipped in honey.

The two of you don’t interact for the rest of the trial. You mutter small-talk to Aradia, having already figured out what you want her to say on the stand beforehand. There’s not actually much you’ll need her to say, depending on what you get from the other witnesses. All that’s left to do now is wait for the remaining witnesses to arrive.

The witnesses file into the courtroom slowly.

For prosecution:

One nervous-looking, human boy with dark skin and dark hair. Black-rimmed, square glasses cover his eyes, and messy black hair sits perched atop his head. You doubt he brushed it this morning. He is of vague relation to the deceased victim. His name is John Egbert. He won’t be too much of a problem.

One cerulean-blooded girl, who happens to resemble a stereotypical librarian. She’s wearing a dress the color of her blood, and a spiderweb pattern blooms across the waist. Her fangs are long and sharp, but you doubt this girl has ever harmed a dust bunny in her entire life. Her name is Aranea Serket, and you’re not entirely sure if you’ll be able to control her during cross-examination.

For defense:

Aradia Megido, the defendant.

A fuschia-blooded girl, also known as the Heiress Apparent. Her name is Feferi Peixes, and from her witness statement, you know that she is a good friend of both your client and the late Vriska Serket. In this court, her testimony is more valuable than Aradia’s, as her caste affords her more credibility. It’s completely backwards thinking, but you can only use it to your advantage. You hope she’s a stubborn girl.

His Honorable Tyranny storms in from the back room, judge robes cloaking his body in a sheath of not black, but indigo. The bailiff takes a seat just below him, right in the middle of the area that, in a human court, no one is allowed to cross. There is no clerk to record the trial.

That fact unnerves you more than anything else.

“All rise!” The bailiff shouts. You obey. “The Superior Court of District 075GC, Department V12 is now in session. Be seated, and come to order.”

You sit. Aradia gives you a small thumbs-up. You smile at her, nothing more than a slight upward quirk of your lips.

“Is everyone present?” He asks, booming voice twisting through the courtroom. You and Pyrope exchange glances, and nod in unison.

“Very well. Please note that you will have no opening statement, and no re-cross examination within this trial. Only redirect.” You feel as if you’ve been bestowed a lovely gift. “Prosecution, your first witness.” He orders.

Pyrope nods, and stands up, sending her chair flying out from behind her. “The prosecution would like to call Aranea Serket to the stand!” She announces. Her voice is much shriller than His Honorable Tyranny’s, but it echoes just as well.

The bailiff gets up from his seat, walks over to the witnesses, and calls Aranea up. She stands, hesitant, and follows him slowly. Her composure is breaking.

When they reach the edge of the stand, he commands her to stop. “Turn, and face me.” She does. “Raise your right hand.” She does. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

She nods.

“You may now be seated. State your name for the court.”

She swallows. “Aranea Serket,” she says, her voice wavering just the slightest bit. The bailiff nods and returns to his seat.

Pyrope nods. “Good evening, Miss Serket.”

“Good evening, Ter—“ Pyrope flashes her a sharp look, and she jumps in her seat, backtracking instantly, “—err, I mean, Miss Pyrope.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that slip up, and make a note to get her later on that slip up.

“Do you know the victim?” She gets right to the point. You grudgingly admire that.

“I’m her closest living genetic relation. We share an ancestor,” she says, sparing a glance at you. “In human relationships, ours would be closest to that of siblings.”

“Where were you at the time of Vriska Serket’s murder, at approximately nine-o-clock at night?”

“I was at our shared hive – she’s too reckless to care for herself, you see – waiting for her to come back from the store. When it took her longer than usual, I figured that she was just distracted by something. She gets – or, used to get – distracted extremely easily. After about an hour passed, I began to get worried, but I didn’t go out. I had to remind myself that, no matter how much she didn’t look it, she could more or less scrape by on her own.”

Aranea rambles on, and His Honorable Tyranny rests his chin in one hand, using the other to tap boredly against the table. Pyrope looks nervous.

You see a chance to strike. You clear your throat, and stand up in one elegant motion. “Objection, your Honorable Tyranny, on the grounds of narrative.”

His Honorable Tyranny looks pleased. Pyrope, on the other hand, does not.

“Sustained.”

You nod, and sit back down. As you’re pulling your chair back to the table, Pyrope jabs her cane down between the legs. You stop with a jolt, and an embarrassing “gurk!” escapes your lips.

Aradia giggles. His Honorable Tyranny looks down at you, amused.

The bailiff looks as if he’s about to break into a sweat.

Pyrope manages to set up the basics of the case within a few questions. Namely, that her “sister” is the victim, and that she and Aradia have not been on good terms for sweeps. She also unwittingly establishes the fact that Vriska is a wild, reckless girl. She has a tendency to ramble, which is bad for both you and Pyrope. She constantly cuts her off right after she’s gotten the answer she needs as the questioning drags on.

You manage to squeeze in a couple of objections, but they are few and far between, and the judge constantly overrules them. You let her finish the direct examination without any further problems.

The moment Pyrope sits down, you stand up. “May I begin?” He nods, and you step out from behind your chair. Aradia flashes you another thumbs up.

“You were close to the late Vriska Serket.”

“Yes. We were related.”

“Close enough that you lived with her?” You keep your tone casual, as if this is nothing more than a friendly conversation. Hopefully, it’ll make her open up to you.

You glance over to Pyrope, who shifts in her seat. She doesn’t like it at all.

Good.

“Yes.”

“Close enough that you knew a lot about her.”

“I knew almost everything there was to know about her!”

“Including who she herself was close to?”

Aranea nods happily. “I knew all of her good friends! I’m even friends with a few of them, despite her tendency to stay around unfavorable company.”

Pyrope freezes up. You smirk.

“Vriska associated herself with unfavorable company.”

“Yes.”

“Unfavorable as in…” You pause, pretending to search for the right words to use. You tap your foot slowly, hum a little under your breath. Just enough to make you seem fully in control of the situation. “People associated with illegal activities?”

“A few of them, yes.”

“Such as crime?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“And violence?”

“They are some of the most violent ruffians I’ve ever had to deal with!”

“And she was close to them?”

“Only a few.”

Pyrope looks as if she’s about to die on the spot. Aradia looks extremely pleased; you’re guessing the two of you share the same expression right about now.

“And they were ruffians,” you clarify.

“Yes.”

“So the type of people who would seem untrustworthy?”

“Yes.”

“Who could perhaps…turn on each other?” You ask.

Pyrope jolts up, nearly hitting you with her chair as it flies away from the desk. “Objection, your Honorable Tyranny, on the grounds of relevance!” She shouts.

While usually quick in his rulings, His Honorable Tyranny is silent, deciding on how to answer. You assume it’s because your questioning interests him. You remember Aradia’s words from earlier, and hope that your guess is correct.

“Overruled.” He says. Pyrope sits back down, defeated. When she pulls her chair back, you brush by it, intentionally sending her off balance.

His Honorable Tyranny grins.

“Anyways, Miss Serket, can you answer my question?”

“Oh, certainly,” she says with a grim look on her face. “I believe they could very well turn on e-“

Pyrope bolts up again, this time sending her chair into your side. You take the blow without so much as a wince. You cannot show weakness here, despite the throbbing pain now occupying your side. “Objection, this answer is of a speculative nature!”

“Sustained.”

She looks back at you and grins wickedly, setting your blood boiling.

You bite your tongue, and carefully re-tool your approach.

“These ruffians get into frequent fights with each other, I presume.”

“All the time. They dragged Vriska in constantly. Several times I thought they may have killed her, but they never did.”

“So they had the capability to murder Vriska Serket?”

“Certainly.”

You didn’t expect this, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise. Aranea may be a better witness for you than any of your own, actually. You don’t mean any offense to Aradia, but a defendant who is actually guilty is not helpful to your cause at all.

“And you said earlier that Vriska is reckless,” you say, having just one last thing to point out. Terezi is figuratively fuming, and you relish in her anger.

“Very.”

“And she’s wild?”

“She doesn’t listen to anyone’s advice, especially not mine! She thought that I was just a big blowhard,” Aranea adds quietly.

You decide to go out on a limb with your next question, even though you’re not entirely sure if it’ll give you the answer you want. “And Vriska was hard to get along with?”

“Well, not for me, but I’d imagine for some-“

“Objection on the grounds of speculation!” Pyrope shouts, bolting up. You barely manage to avoid her seat.

“Sustained,” His Honorable Tyranny says. He looks down at you, with a frown. “Speed it up, human.”

You nod. “Your friends didn’t get along with Vriska, did they.”

“No.”

“And she didn’t have many friends of her own.”

“No.”

“Though, the prosecution attorney was one of her few friends.”

Aranea nods. “Yes. They were extremely close.”

“Objection on the grounds of relevance!” Pyrope shouts, almost losing her own composure. You lift a hand to your mouth in order to hide your smile.

“I don’t see why it isn’t relevant.” His Honorable Tyranny says. “Overruled, but this interrogation is over.”

You drop your hand, and allow your smile to be shown. “Of course, your Honorable Tyranny.”

“Time for re-direct,” he announces. “And it better be quick.”

You sit down, confident that this re-direct will get Pyrope absolutely nowhere. You’ve won this round without so much as a sweat. She may be the best prosecution attorney in the district, but you might just be the best defense attorney in the district.

“Miss Serket, was the late victim,” you now notice how Pyrope goes out of her way to avoid Vriska’s name, “involved with any of those so-called ruffians the day of the murder?”

Aranea pauses. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Thank you.”

\---

John Egbert, as you quickly learn, is kind of a doofus. He’d be an average person in any other place, but here, he’s clearly the stupidest thing on two legs.

Even stupider than Pyrope, and her ridiculous attempts to catch you off-guard.

As she lays her foundation questions, you look down at your desk to notice a small, folded piece of paper. Inside is a note, written in sloping, teal letters that run into each other. It’s in English, which just comes off as condescending. What kind of intra-district lawyer would you be if you couldn’t read one of the official languages of the area?

 It’s barely legible, but you are pretty sure it says:

YOU TH1NK YOUR3 SOOOOOOO H1GH 4ND M1GHTY, DON’T YOU??? W3LL 1 D1DNT G41N TH3 T1TL3 OF “MOST F34R3D L3G1SL4C3R4TOR 1N 4LL OF 4LT3RN14” FOR NO R34SON >;]

Her handwriting and her mutated leet speak are completely and utterly ridiculous. Pyrope must secretly be a 12 year old girl who had a miraculous growth spurt at an extremely early age.

Her body certainly implies that notion, with the way she has no curves to speak of at all. She’s not much taller than you, but while you actually look like a woman, Pyrope looks as if a toddler decided to tie together a bundle of sticks and color them gray.

You glance back down at the note. Beneath that is a smaller scribble, nearly crossed out by rapid pen-strokes that leave indents in the paper. However, you can still make it out.

THOUGH 1 H4V3 TO 4DM1T YOUR FL1RT1NG 1S S4DLY 1MP3CC4BL3

Huh. She believes that you are trying to court her?

You rip the note up, and shove the remains into your purse. Let her think that. It’ll make it all the more sweeter when you crush her case to microscopic smithereens.

John testifies that he was a close friend of the victim, having known her for years. He describes Vriska as, “pretty intense!” which is of no help at all to you. You have Aranea’s testimony, and as long as this idiot doesn’t refute it, you’ll be fine.

“Mister Egbert, were you the one who found the victim’s corpse directly after the murder?”

His cheerful demeanor vanishes, and he grows solemn as he nods.

“Please describe the scene of the crime,” Pyrope says, her voice impartial and completely level. She’s practiced these questions before, but obviously not on the boy. Her composure is fake, barely controlled well at all.

Maybe you can make her crack, if you prod at the right places.

“Oh man, do I have to?”

“Yes, Mister Egbert,” Pyrope says flatly. “We need your testimony so we can determine the outcome of this trial.” She obviously doesn’t hold this boy in very high regard.

 “Ok. Well…” He exhales right into the microphone, causing static to buzz through the courtblock. Pyrope’s face twists up in disgust, but His Honorable Tyranny and Aradia both chuckle. “Jeez, it was terrible. I found her in one of the alleyways she liked to use as a shortcut to get back home. There was blue blood everywhere.”

Pyrope cuts him off. “What kind of blue blood?”

John looks at her as if she’s an idiot. “Her kind of blue blood, duh! It was really fresh, too. All over the place,” he finishes with a shudder.

“Was there any other type of blood?”

“Yeah. I saw a little bit of reddish blood, too, but not a lot.”

“Reddish?” Pyrope echoes, and John nods.

“Like, dark red. Too dark to be a human’s.”

You glance over to Aradia, and down at her shirt; a black t-shirt with her symbol painted in maroon.

Pyrope’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Please look at the defendant.”

John does.

“Can you describe an article of her clothing?”

John stands up, craning his neck to look at Aradia. You try to get her to turn slightly, just enough to conceal her sign from his view, but she faces him proudly.

You glance over to Pyrope, who grins triumphantly.

“She’s wearing a black shirt with a weird reddish symbol on it,” he states.

“Is that reddish color familiar?” Pyrope asks.

John looks over to Aradia and blinks, realization flooding across his face. “That’s the same color as the blood I saw near Vriska!”

“Thank you, Mister Egbert,” Pyrope says sweetly, and sits back down.

The scales may be in her favor, but you do believe you can tip them in yours.

\---

You don’t. John proves to be aggravatingly difficult in his stupidity, and you can’t worm anything useful out of him. Pyrope won’t stop laughing at you.

All that you manage to establish is that there is a slight chance that someone else could have attacked Vriska.

However, as you quickly learn, very few maroonblooded trolls are powerful enough to psychically drop a dumpster on top of someone.

Aradia, however, is.

\---

“Before we continue,” His Honorably Tyranny shouts just as you get up to call Feferi to the stand, “we shall take a break.” He looks down at you, pupils shrinking down to pinpricks. “For your sake, human.”

You open your mouth to protest that you do not need a break, but what comes out instead is, “thank you.”

He stomps through a door off to the side, and the bailiff hurries after him for a reason you don’t care to know.

“Is it alright if I go to the restroom, Rose?” Aradia asks quietly. You nod, and with a grateful smile, she leaves.

Pyrope sits at the other end of the table, leaning back in her chair as if she’s already won. You resist the urge to snort in disgust, and leave the courtblock without a word.

You are a woman on a mission, and your target is the coffee machine at the end of the hall. Ever since humans introduced it to the race as a whole, they’ve gone insane over the stuff. The coffee market here is, dare you say it, even greater than it is on Earth.

You pick through the bags of coffee cautiously, trying to avoid anything with the word ‘grub’ scrawled on it in Alternian.

The assortment is utterly dreadful. Flavours include, but are not limited to: minced brown grub, crushed yellow grub, grazed green grub, lusus blood, fish spoils, grubloaf, grubghetti, droneclaws.

You pick the bag labeled ‘medium,’ and hope to god that it won’t taste like organs and despair.

You stand by the coffee machine as you wait for it to brew, leaving a wide dearth of space open in case anyone else wishes to use the other one available. Today isn’t the busiest day you’ve seen, but troll attorneys still rush back and forth along the hallways.

You close your eyes, and sigh. The trial is only half over, you remind yourself. There is still hope, provided you can prevent Pyrope from getting Aradia to admit guilt.

You hear footsteps approach, and your eyes fly open only to see a garish ensemble of teal and red.

“I should have known I would find you here!” Pyrope says, strolling over and bumping you with her bony hip, sending you sprawling away from the coffee bags. She lifts each one to her nose and inhales deeply, sighing in delight when she gets one labeled ‘cherry berry red.’

She smiles brightly, and licks a long stripe up the bag, gray tongue slipping out of her mouth like a serpent.

Your stomach rolls uncomfortably.

“And what was the purpose of that, exactly?” You ask. “Besides of course claiming that disgusting flavor for yourself.”

“Your statement is dreadfully false, Lalonde!” She says, twisting to face you. She trusts the coffee bag in your face, and the blood drains from your face as you see bits of spittle still clinging to the plastic. “Red is the best flavor, and how else am I going to distinguish which coffee is the best without tasting for the color?”

“I believe you have your senses mixed up,” you say dryly. “You cannot taste red, nor can you taste coffee through a layer of plastic.”

“Maybe _you_ can’t, but _I_ can!” She responds, laughing as she throws the grounds into the other coffee machine. Her sightless eyes never leave yours. “I sense my surroundings through smell. My nose functions just as well as your pathetic human eyes.”

You decide not to probe any further, despite desperately wanting to. Instead, you turn around, letting her take in a noseful (you suppose?) of your gray skirt and blazer. “Fine. Think what you may, Pyrope.”

The coffee machine stops hissing steam, and you grab a mug (inspecting it for any unsavory materials first, of course), and pour the coffee in. You sip it black, used to the scalding heat of the drink.

“Rose,” Pyrope says, and the fact that she just used your first name shocks you enough to make you turn around and face her. She looks puzzled, mouth contorting into a shape that closely resembles a question mark. “How familiar are you with the quadrant system?”

Ah, the fabled Alternian quadrant system: scourge to both mankind and trollkind alike. “I know the basics,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

She shrugs, and pours her finished coffee into a mug. It’s a bright red, as if someone melted down pure candy and mixed it with water. She drinks it slowly, giggling to herself.

Freak.

“Red is the best color,” she says, looking at you from over her glasses, batting her eyelashes like a lovesick schoolgirl. You know it’s completely on purpose. She’s doing it just to throw you off.

“It’s why I’d just love to cut you open and have a drink of that pretty sludge running through your veins!” She says, laughing gleefully.

Your face twists into a horrified grimace, and you feel your throat close up. You’re not _scared,_ just…a little worried.

(You hate this vile creature.)

“I…uh, better…check on my client,” you say, downing the rest of your coffee in a single gulp and rushing back to the courtblock, Pyrope’s laughter following you all the way back.

Aradia hasn’t returned when you sit down, and you give yourself a few moments of silence to calm down.

Looking back at what just occurred, you are pretty sure that Pyrope was trying to flirt with you.

You’re not entirely sure how to feel about that.

Aradia returns after a few minutes of silence. She notices your face, and looks at your worriedly. “You’ll do fine, Rose!” She says, trying to cheer you up. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Thank you.”

The two of you lapse into silence until His Honorable Tyranny returns, with the bailiff right at his heels. He sits down, and pounds not a gavel, but his fist, into his desk. It produces nearly the same sound. You can’t help but be impressed by that. “We will now resume the trial,” he announces. “Defense, your first witness!”

Pyrope has yet to return. You don’t care enough to wait for her, and if His Honorable Tyranny sees fit to continue without her, then you have no qualms. “The defense calls Feferi Peixes to the stand,” you say, trying to be as loud and as authoritative as possible. Loudness is not a trait you easily possess. Your sternness comes from a quiet air of authority. Loudly pushing through your obstacles like Pyrope does just isn’t classy.

(You’re not actually that classy, but you do consider yourself classier than that lunatic.)

The bailiff swears her in, and she sits down, glubbing quietly to herself for god knows what reason. Pyrope has still yet to arrive, and you hesitate just for a moment. Perhaps you’re taking pity on her.

…Actually, no, you’re not.

Maybe you just miss her presence, dominating over the room just as much as His Honorable Tyranny.

She bursts in a moment later, slamming the door right into the wall. She pants heavily, chest rising and falling underneath tacky, red pleather. “I apologize immensely!” She wheezes. “A fellow legislacerator distracted me.”

His Honorably Tranny hums apathetically. “Sit down, prosecution.”

You smirk at her as she passes, and she glares at you. When she sits back down, she’s clearly stewing in her own irritation, if the hunched shoulders are any indication.

“Good evening, Miss Peixes.”

“Good evening!”

“How do you know the victim?”

Feferi’s eyes brighten. “We are-“ she ends her statement abruptly, quickly backtracking, “were good fronds, I mean.”

Oh, you didn’t know she was one of _those_ trolls. But, you will just have to grin and bear the fish puns.

You really hope they won’t get too obnoxious.

“And do you know the defendant?”

“Yes! Me and Aradia have been very good friends for a long time!” She answers cheerfully,

“How would you describe their relationship?”

Feferi hums, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “They’re not on good terms very often. Especially not after Tavros was krilled!”

Your eyes widen, and you look down at Aradia. This is the first time she hasn’t looked anything other than cheerful; now, a deep scowl etches itself across her face

“Uh, Tavros?”

“Sorry. Tavros. Tavros Nitram.”

“Who is that?” This isn’t rehearsed anymore. It’s entirely new information, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“One of Aradia’s very close friends! A good friend of mine, too, before he was glubbing killed.”

“How was he killed?” You ask, genuinely curious. Aradia’s much gloomier now, watching the proceedings with a grim look. You’re not one for comfort, but you lightly pat her shoulder anyways. She smiles sadly at you.

Poor girl.

“Vriska killed him! I don’t really know why, but it just happened out of the blue one day!” Feferi says.

Pyrope looks intrigued, sniffing discreetly in Aradia’s direction. A slow smile spreads across her face.

“Um, thank you,” you say awkwardly, desperate to get off of the subject. You try to grasp for the questions you had previously prepared, but come up with nothing.

You sigh, and as many would say, you decide to wing it.

“Is Aradia Megido a violent person?”

Feferi looks as if she’s offended by your question. “Of course not!” She says flippantly. “She’d shell out help for any poor troll asking for some!”

“Did Vriska Serket hate her?” You ask, hoping for an answer that will help you. You’re not sure you can get one.

Pyrope sits in her chair smugly. She’s not even objecting, the snide woman. She thinks you’ll dig your own grave. Your witnesses aren’t even helping you.

But that’s ok. You can deal with this.

“Vriska didn’t really hate anyone! She was never too in touch with her emotions,” Feferi says fondly, as if talking about a pet she liked a lot. It’s just creepy enough to unsettle you, but not enough to send a shiver down your back.

“Did Vriska ever attempt to murder Aradia?”

“Not that I know of, no. She tried to krill many trolls, and she succeeded in krilling many more! But not Aradia, no.”

You resist the urge to sigh, unable to think of any more questions. Despite being your most credible witness, you have no idea what else you want Feferi to say.

You have no choice but to retire for now. “Thank you,” you say, and sit down. Pyrope takes this chance to stand up, making a ridiculous show of pulling her gloves up until they snap in the tense air.

“Trashy,” you murmur under your breath, and as she passes by, her hip smacks into your chair, sending you flying into the desk. A small, “oof,” escapes your mouth, and you struggle to regain your breathing as you glare at nothing in particular.

His Honorable Tyranny chuckles, and you flush in embarrassment.

“You know Aradia Megido,” Pyrope says curtly.

Feferi rolls her eyes and laughs. “Duh! I just said that.”

Pyrope remains silent, before barking out, “you also know the victim.”

“Yes!” Feferi freezes, watching Pyrope with a look that you can’t quite place. The atmosphere grows tense, but she breaks it when she speaks again. “Oh, that’s you, Terezi! I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long! I’m sorry for your loss.”

“That’s not the point, Peixes,” Pyrope says, all emotion gone from her voice.

“But aren’t you sad over what happened to Vriska?” Feferi asks, confused.

“Why do you think I took this case.” She grinds out, each word running over your ears like sandpaper.

“But you’re practically trying to glubbing murder Aradia yourself!” Feferi shouts urgently.

“I’m only trying to bring justice.” She snaps. “Your Honorable Tyranny, the prosecution rests in regards to the cross examination of this witness,” she says, her voice eerily level and mechanical. She returns to her seat, and sits down stiffly.

Justice?

The way she uses it, it’s just a fancy word for revenge.

“The defense has no re-direct at this time, your Honorable Tyranny,” you say smugly. “However, the defense would like to call its next witness.”

Pyrope’s composure has returned, and she leans back in her chair, cane draped across her lap. It brings to mind those cheesy spy movies you’ve seen once or twice as a child – Pyrope is the villain stroking her equally as evil pet cat on her lap, and you are the dashing spy crawling through the ventilation system, waiting for your moment to strike.

His Honorable Tyranny snorts impatiently. “Are you going to call up your next witness or not, human? I do not wish to waste any more of my time dawdling around like a brainless grub.”

Pyrope smiles, and you get an idea. It’s risky, and you’re not even sure if you can do this, but it is worth a shot.

“The defense would like to call Terezi Pyrope to the stand.”

Pyrope sputters, flying out of her seat and sending her cane flying to the ground. You make no attempt to hide your smug smirk.

“O-objection!” She sputters out. “She cannot call her rival lawyer to the stand!”

His Honorable Tyranny quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe…” he says, pausing to think, “maybe she can.”

“What!?” Pyrope says. “No!”

“You don’t make the rules here, Pyrope. I do, and I say that you are as valid of a witness as any of the motherfuckers sitting in the stands.” He says, booming voice like music to your ears. Pyrope looks utterly crushed, but it only lasts for a split second, before her expression hardens.

“Then, your Honorable Tyranny, since each side is supposed to have the same number of witnesses, I would like to request a slight change to that rule.” She says.

“And that is?”

“I will testify on the stand, as long as the defendant testifies as well.”

He considers her request, and nods. “After all, what kind of trial would this be without the defendant testifying to her own guilt!” Pyrope smiles at that, and tilts her head enough so you can see it as well.

Hmph.

“However, the courtblock sees it fit to grant the defense a bit of leeway,” he announces. “This witness will only be cross-examined, and nothing else.”

Both you and Pyrope nod. There will be no chance for objections or shoddy witnesses. This interrogation simply comes down to your wits against hers.

The bailiff swears her in, and when she sits down at the stand, she folds her hands neatly in front of her. She owns the stand.

You stand up, walk around your chair, and gently push it in. You step back, allow yourself room to move.

“Pyrope.” You say.

“Lalonde.” She answers you icily.

“You knew Vriska Serket,” you say, drawing out her name as long as you possibly can without it being blatantly obvious.

“You could say that.”

You blink. “I could say that? But I’m not the one being questioned here, am I?”

“You could be!” Pyrope answers.

“But you’re the one on the stand.”

“I guess I am!”

“And not only did you know Vriska Serket, you were close to her.”

Pyrope frowns, the tips of her teeth sticking out over thin, black lips. “Yes.”

“You cared about her.”

“I hated her,” she replies. “She was nothing but trouble.”

You frown. She’s a hard one to control. “But you did feel something for her.”

“Something is a nice choice of wording, so yes.”

“She was important to you,” you say, grasping for a definite answer. All you need is a yes or no. Come on, Pyrope.

(You don’t actually want her to give in. It’s more fun this way. You’re actually enjoying yourself, and you bet Pyrope is too, underneath her calm mask.)

“Important in the way a tumor is important to notice,” she responds.

“You didn’t want her to die.”

Pyrope goes silent. You blink, and wait for an answer.

“…yes.” She answers quietly.

“You knew she had problems with Aradia,” you say, putting up a front of confidence.

“I knew every single chump she’s ever fought with! She told me everything.”

“You knew she killed Tavros.”

Pyrope nods. “There was nothing I could do about it! It wasn’t illegal for her to kill him.”

You begin to walk across the courtblock, passing by Aradia. She’s glaring straight at Pyrope, but even her hatred is unable to shatter that mask. It’s too firmly in place.

“You also know Aradia Megido.”

“How could I not?” She says, laughing. It’s wild and too high-pitched. Completely fake, you realize.

“You knew her before this trial.”

“Yes.”

“Because of Vriska?”

“My entire life did not involve around the victim, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.” Pyrope says coolly, leaning back in her seat. She scoots the chair back, and puts her feet up on the table. Red pleather boots cover your view of her face.

“But she was a large part of your life, wasn’t she?” You ask.

Pyrope shrugs. “Maybe in her eyes!”

“Large enough for you to be on a first name basis with her friends and relations,” you point out.

Pyrope goes quiet again, and you know you’ve hit the metaphorical nail on the head. “Yes.” She says.

“But then she was killed.”

“We’re not on trial to determine whether or not she was killed, Lalonde. We’re trying to determine if Megido did it or not.”

“And you were upset.”

“That’s a reasonable enough conclusion,” Pyrope says. It’s close enough to yes to work for you.

“So you took the case.”

“Yes.”

“You took the case immediately.”

She knows what you’re trying to do. “I took the case,” she repeats, and you can tell you won’t get any further with that line of questioning.

“You want Aradia to be guilty.”

“Yes, that is what prosecution generally wants, for the victim to admit guilt. I knew human courts were dreadfully stupid, but I would assume that even they would understand something as simple as that!” She says.

“You’re willing to go to great lengths to win this case.”

“As any good legislacerator should.”

But she’s not a legislacerator here. Only a lawyer with a bias, in way over her head.

“You’ll do almost anything to win.”

“I am ruthless when it comes to delivering justice.”

You smile. “Thank you,” you finish. “This witness may be excused.”

Pyrope swings her feet off of the table and looks to you, baffled. His Honorable Tyranny looks completely amused, and she only realizes what you did after she swivels her head towards him and takes a deep, audible sniff.

Her head whips back to you, and she takes off her glasses just to glare at you with every ounce of venom in her body. “Clever.” She says, and leaves the witness stand before you excuse her. Her arm brushes against you as she walks by, and a shudder runs down your spine.

“The defense calls Aradia Megido to the stand,” you say, “but there will be no direct examination at this time. Prosecution may proceed with their cross.”

You have nothing to gain from Aradia that you didn’t gain from anyone else. The only thing you can do is hope that you can cover your ass once Pyrope finishes with her cross.

Aradia is sworn in, and Pyrope stands up. She watches Aradia with the same icy mask she gave you just minutes before.

It’s to keep herself from getting emotional, you know. It’s a weak cover, but it’s one that works.

“You killed Vriska Serket.” Pyrope says – no, she accuses.

“Yes,” Aradia says.

Pyrope sits down without another word, and you stand up.

You don’t know how you’re going to get around this issue, but you’re going to try anyways.

“Why did you kill Vriska Serket?” You ask.

“Because she killed Tavros, and I couldn’t let her go unpunished.”

So much for your previous theory of her being framed. But you know exactly what to work with now, and you’re still hopeful that you might just win this case.

If you don’t, then you don’t get paid.

And Aradia doesn’t get to see tomorrow.

“So you did it to avenge the death of someone close to you?”

“Yes.”

There’s…not much else you think you can use. “Thank you. Your Honorable Tyranny, may this witness be dismissed?” You ask, and he nods. Aradia returns to your side, smiling sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, as if she’s the one at fault.

You sigh. “Don’t be. You did the right thing, telling the truth. If I fail, then I will be the only sorry one here.”

She shakes her head. “But you won’t!”

If only you could be that optimistic.

“It’s time for closing arguments,” His Honorable Tyranny announces. “You will each get a short rebuttal at the end, when you have both finished. Make it interesting,” he warns. This is the final stretch; you don’t intend to fuck up now. “Prosecution?”

Pyrope nods. She stands up, pushes her chair in, and grabs her cane. The dragon head fits comfortably in her hand, you notice. Probably custom made for her, the tacky wretch.

“Your Honorable Tyranny,” Pyrope begins, “I am a noble legislacerator. There is a reason why I am one of the most respected attorneys in the entire district!”

Oh, so her plan is to make her entire closing argument into an ego-booster for herself? How amateur.

“I do not latch on to half-hearted theories and weak biases that ultimately show no concrete evidence, unlike the defense.” That wasn’t even a decent stab at you! More like a pitiful little pinprick.

Your own mother has lobbed worse insults at you than that.

“I do not need to, because, as you heard, Aradia Megido herself testified to the most important fact of this case! She admitted guilt! She is a murderer!” Pyrope announces loudly. Neither you nor Aradia shrink away from that. “I do not need to go on a longwinded, philosophical rant to prove my point. All I needed were the words that came directly out of Megido’s mouth. She’s not even remorseful for her crime!” She says, pointing the end of her cane at Aradia. “That is the face of a killer who is proud of her deed.”

Is that all she has? Weak.

“Your Honorable Tyranny, I ask that you return a verdict of guilty. Why? Because, this court case is about the murder of,” she hesitates for a brief second before continuing, just enough for you to notice, “Vriska Serket. It is not about my ties to her, nor is it about whatever ridiculous shenanigans she may have been involved with! It is simply about bringing justice to her death, and convicting her murderer.”

She sits down, already complete with her speech. You scoff, just loud enough for her to hear, and she scowls at you.

“Your Honorable Tyranny,” you say, standing up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your hear, “may I begin my closing argument?”

“Make it quick!” He says.

You clear your throat, and begin to speak.

“There is so much more to this case than what the prosecution tries to make it out to be. In Alternian courts, murder is not entirely illegal. Just because Aradia Megido killed another troll, does not mean she should be sentenced to death herself.”

Ok, so far, so good. Pyrope is entirely unimpressed, but you plan to change that soon enough.

“We cannot argue that Miss Megido is innocent of the crime. We can, however, dissect the background of this case, and figure out why this specific group of people is standing here today.”

Pyrope sits up in her seat. Now you’ve gotten her attention.

“Why did Terezi Pyrope, one of the best prosecution attorneys around, pick a case like this? A case where nearly all of the witnesses know her on a personal level, including the very defendant she is trying to sentence to death?”

Aradia looks so calm, watching you with approval. She’s so assured you’ll win.

You wish you had that same confidence. Your hands shake and your voice wavers, but you push through it.

“Because she loved the wild and reckless Vriska Serket. I’m not trying to say that they were involved somehow, just that the deceased Serket was special to the prosecution. Pyrope said it herself, that she would do anything to bring justice to this case. Now, is justice really the right word? Or is revenge perhaps better suited for this case?”

His Honorable Tyranny watches you with a smile sloping across his face. Pyrope looks as if she was just caught off-guard. She must have been expecting this, right? She knew you were going to bring up her bias but maybe she didn’t suspect you to push it along this specific direction.

Though, none of that really matters. All that matters is His Honorable Tyranny’s approval, and getting to watch the scandalized look on her face.

(It makes you happy in ways you didn’t expect.)

“What about Aradia? What motivated her to commit such a deed?” You pause for dramatic effect. “Why, the very same thing that drives Pyrope to murder Aradia! Revenge.”

So far, so good (you suppose).

“Vriska Serket was a ruthless troll. One who did not play well with others, so to speak. And killing Tavros Nitram was the last straw. Aradia couldn’t let this murderer continue hurting innocent people! So she committed an act that she sadly cannot do. Was it the right choice? She believes so. And I believe that you should believe so as well.”

You’re coming to the end now, surprisingly faster than you expected. Maybe you should bring in the other witness’s testimonies a bit more, but you decide against it. It’d only interrupt the flow.

“Tavros Nitram was murdered. Vriska Serket was murdered in order to avenge this death. And now, Terezi Pyrope holds the knife, ready to plunge it right into Aradia Megido’s heart. But will her hands get dirty? No, because her plan is to twist the legal system, a system supposed to prevent needless bloodshed, into her own tool for killing. Maybe she’ll even perform the execution herself, with the blade she’s hidden inside of her cane!”

Pyrope watches you furiously, as if she’s ready to jump out of her seat and strangle you at any moment. The bailiff, who seems to be coated by a thin sheen of sweat, is halfway out of his seat, ready to restrain her the moment she moves.

“If you return a verdict of guilty, you will only be encouraging this pointless cycle of revenge. We are all rational beings here, aren’t we? More blood does not need to be spilled. The army of the dead does not need any more soldiers, especially not ones that, while living, are full of hope and opportunity.”

You finish there, blinking. You didn’t even expect that; it just sort of came out on its own. You’re no longer shaking, you realize, and your last words hang in the air, loud and confident.

You sit down, and His Honorable Tyranny pounds his fist against the table. “That was a motherfucking riot!” He says jovially, his eyes darting towards you. “Lalonde, you’ve really impressed me. You’re better than half of the sorry gutterbloods I see on a daily basis!”

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the compliment with as much grace as you can.

“The both of you have done excellently, but one of you has just happened to outperform the other.”

Both you and Pyrope suck in a nervous breath at the same time. You look over to Aradia, and she smiles at you.

“For the case of People V. Megido, the court returns a verdict of not guilty.”

Pyrope’s face burns teal with anger.

You relish in it.

\---

The trial has ended, and the witnesses have left. You promise to meet with Aradia at a later date to celebrate your victory, and for some reason, John Egbert comes up to you and asks if you’ve met him before.

You haven’t, but you’re not one to shun opportunity. You give him your e-mail, and warn him not to think that you’re interested in him romantically.

You don’t exactly find males all that attractive.

You stand by the coffee machine, enjoying a nice, gore-free brew when you see Pyrope approach. She’s calmed down considerably from earlier, which you take to be a good sign. She’s also changed out of that ridiculous get up she wore, though a t-shirt and red jeans only make her look like a teenager trying to be edgy. Her cheap red glasses still decorate her face.

“You did surprisingly well,” she says, and quickly adds, “for a human.”

“Thank you for that racist compliment,” you say. “I appreciate it.”

She grins, and steps closer, snatching the coffee out of your hand and setting it down on the counter. You almost expected her to pour it down your shirt. Shame that she didn’t.

“You are insufferable, Lalonde,” she mutters.

“The feeling is mutual,” you reply smugly. “But in the end, one of us has won not only the case, but the respect of the district.”

“You may have clambered over the hill, but there’s still a mountain to face.”

“I know,” you say smugly. “I intend to reach the top.”

“Is that a threat?” She asks, her eyes widening and a smile pulling her lips apart. You’re no longer unnerved by the knives she keeps stored in her mouth.

“Perhaps,” you reply, and she moves to stand right in front of you.

You look down at her, a single eyebrow raised. She’s much shorter than you, without the height bonus that high heels offer. “Are you planning something?” You ask.

“Of course!” She replies, and surges forward, mashing her lips against yours. It’s forceful, but you can feel the enthusiasm behind it, and you decide to return it, opening your mouth the slightest bit to give her better access. She pushes you against the table with her body, hipbones digging into the fabric of your skirt.

This must be what kismesissitude feels like.

You rather enjoy it.

She pulls away, and you push her back in order to slip away from the table. “You didn’t draw blood,” you say, mildly surprised.

“I figure I can save that treat for later.” She grins at you and winks from behind her glasses. You feel slightly amused, and hate her just a little bit more for it.

“So I figure you’re attempting to usher me into your black quadrant?”

“Yes!”

“It seems like a nice fit so far,” you say. You’ve always wanted to try out the quadrant system, and you’re finding yourself strangely open to the idea.

“Then tell me, Lalonde. Why are you still letting such useless words run out of your protein chute? You could be doing much more interesting things with it.”

You agree.

You lean in to kiss her again.

She giggles, and murmurs into your mouth, “if we ever happen to meet in a trial again, don’t expect to win.”

“You’re a sore loser.”

“Bite me,” she says.

You do.

It’s amazing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Prima Facie (The Exit Strategy Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/722097) by [sunspeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspeared/pseuds/sunspeared)




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